


promise

by clarkesquad



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, ontari kills lexa's kiddos and clarke tears down all her walls to comfort her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkesquad/pseuds/clarkesquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where the only thing standing in the way of Clarke letting Lexa in is the realization that she is all too human. Ontari makes her move against the nightbloods and for the first time in years, Lexa isn't alone to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	promise

**Author's Note:**

> fuck off asmy, i've called the police and you've had your headcanon rights revoked. that aside, i've also called jason and informed him that he can retire. these girls are mine and this is your new canon.
> 
> credit to @hedaswarrior on tumblr for the theory that ontari kills the nightbloods. you absolute monster.

Bodies.

It’s been a long time since Clarke lost count of how many days she’s been on the ground, but she could never lose count of the bodies.

She’s seen more than anyone should in their lifetime, more than anyone had in a hundred years. On the Ark, there was only floating. It’s fitting that they were the first thing she saw on the ground; two bodies of kids who had left their seats during reentry and died on impact. Within days, they weren’t the only ones. Within weeks, she’d started turning people into bodies herself. 300 warriors had died in the ring of fire, turned into nothing but burnt remains of people with homes and lives and dreams. Another month had passed and she’d doubled her body count by Lexa’s side in TonDC.

Days later, she’d tripled it at Mount Weather, by Bellamy’s side. He hadn’t stopped, either. Pike and Bellamy had devastated Lexa’s peacekeeping army and for once they weren’t Clarke’s bodies to bury, but it had been preventable nonetheless. Maybe if she had stayed, there’d be less bodies on the ground. Of all the things she’s gotten used to, this isn’t one of them. It never will be.

Clarke’s heart is in the pit of her stomach and she feels cold to the bone.

Bodies. Seven of them, spread across the stone floor of Lexa’s throne room.

It was nearly dark when they returned to Polis, but she and Lexa had been wide awake. Titus had trailed behind them along with Lexa’s sentries as they discussed the idea of peace with Arkadia. Indra had been right, Titus wasn’t going to be convinced easily. He had been silent for most of their walk to the tower. Maybe had they come an hour earlier, twenty minutes even, maybe they would be arguing with Titus about the necessary sacrifices they would have to make in the name of peace.

Instead, they were only faced with bodies that feel so familiar to Clarke. Trikru bodies, like in the ring of fire. Innocents, like in TonDC. Senseless, like the blood spilled by Finn and Bellamy. _Kids_. Kids like the ones she had killed in Mount Weather.

Black blood pools around their wounds and even in the low light, Clarke can tell each of them has more than one. A young girl’s throat is slit, but her stomach has a stab wound as well. One boy has a slash in his shirt ten inches wide. The more she looks, the more she notices. Their deaths were violent ones. As someone who has mercy killed and vengeance killed and everything in between, Clarke can see how exactly how it happened.

She _is_ Wanheda, after all.

The person who did this wasn’t trained in killing, but in conquering. And when Clarke manages to tear her eyes away from the scattered bodies, she sees that the person who did this is sitting on Lexa’s throne.

Anger flares up inside Clarke and nearly consumes her. Ontari. She’s covered in splashes of black blood and she sits calmly in the seat reserved for Lexa alone, radiating power that Clarke desperately wants to rip from her. She may not believe in killing to take someone’s power, but she believes in _killing_. Her hands turn to fists at her sides. Ontari is covered in her own injuries and Clarke hopes she’s in pain. She hopes she’s in agony.

A strangled sound like a deep breath caught in Lexa’s throat snaps Clarke out of her rage. She’s drawn to _Lexa_ now and Clarke’s heart crumbles when she takes a slow step forwards. She can’t see her face but she knows Lexa, she knows her body language. She knows this is different than seeing her warriors dead on a battlefield. Every time someone dies for Clarke, she can still hear Lexa’s words in the back of her mind. _We must look into the eyes of our warriors and say “go die for me”._

But these aren’t just her warriors. They’re not even just kids. They’re Lexa’s trainees. Nightbloods. The realization clutches at Clarke’s heart and that’s when she notices she’s been crying since she stepped into the room. Her step falters and someone catches her - Titus, his own jaw locked in the same way Lexa’s is when she’s trying to keep her composure. He wraps his arm around her shoulder to pull her away. His voice is dark and furious when he speaks.

“What is this?”

Clarke pushes Titus away and wipes away at her tears so that she can watch Lexa.

“What have you done?” Lexa sounds murderous. She’s heard her declare war and call thousands of men to battle and yet her voice has never been so cold.

There’s a silent exchange between Ontari and Lexa. Ontari tilts her chin up and taunts her with a small smile. Lexa stays frozen in place. Clarke wants an explanation, something to make this make sense, but neither of them offer one. There has to be something she’s missing.

Lexa’s voice shakes when she growls, “Sentries, _arrest this blood traitor_.”

The guards do as they’re told, but Clarke has never seen them quite so emotional. They’ve always acted as stone pillars in every room Lexa occupies. Now their power is palpable. They grab her by the arms and with a harsh tug, pull her from the throne. One sentry bares his teeth and pulls at Ontari’s arm roughly.

 _“Disha nou ste yun.”_ He says in trigedasleng, gesturing towards Lexa’s throne with his chin.

“Not yet.” Ontari replies in English.

“You’ll come to regret this,” Lexa promises her and if Clarke could speak, she’d promise her the same thing.

Ontari only smiles. “You can’t kill me.”

Clarke’s mouth falls open. She’s at a loss. _Again_. Lexa can kill anyone she wants and nobody deserves it more than a child murderer.

“No.” Lexa confirms what Clarke still doesn’t understand. “But I’ll make you wish I could.”

The guards take that as their signal to take Ontari away. Clarke almost stops them so that she can say something, _do_ something, but she just stands frozen in place, watching Lexa walk to the far side of the room. She doesn’t step over the bodies but avoids them entirely to move to the table in the corner. It’s littered with papers and candles that had burned out hours ago. Moonlight is the only thing that lights the room but it’s enough for Clarke to see the way Lexa’s shoulders are starting to shake.

The heavy doors slam shut behind Lexa’s sentries and the only people left in the room are Clarke, Lexa, and Titus. And the bodies.

“Leave me.” Lexa says softly.

Clarke doesn’t intend to listen, but neither does Titus, apparently. He steps forward. “Heda-”

“I gave you an order,” she growls. “ _LEAVE ME_.”

For Titus, she’s left no room for negotiation. He looks to the nightbloods once before he turns around to slip through the doors.

Clarke doesn’t follow him.

Lexa’s head falls and her shoulders slump when the doors close behind him. She lets herself lean her hands on the tabletop and they turn to white knuckled fists after a moment. Clarke takes a step forward. She has to comfort her somehow. Be there for her _somehow_. Lexa’s lost so many people and she’s done it all alone, but Clarke can’t see why she has to. She searches, but she can’t find even a trace of the hate she used to feel for Lexa.

Before Clarke can reach her, she stops in her tracks when Lexa grabs ahold of the table’s edge and with a violent cry and a single heave, pitches it forward, slinging everything on it to the floor and crashing against the wall. Lexa stands in front of the mess with labored breaths, but she doesn’t allow herself anything more than that brief show of emotion. Lexa looks upwards and shakes her head before she backs up slowly and turns to face the children she knew so well.

She takes careful steps into the center of the room and then slowly kneels at a young boy’s side. Clarke recognizes him as Aden. _The most promising of my novitiates,_ Lexa had told her. But was more than that, she realizes. He was her favorite.

Clarke thinks of the day she watched Charlotte dive off the edge of a cliff to her death because of a choice _she_ had made. She thinks of finding Wells’ body the same day she finally got her best friend back. She thinks of the little kids who had choked on radiation in Mount Weather because she pulled that lever. When Lexa drops her forehead against Aden’s lifeless body, Clarke feels the pain that she’s been pushing down and away for too long.

She steadies herself with a deep breath and then silently drops to her knees next to Lexa, who looks up at her, disoriented and confused. Maybe she’d assumed Clarke had left. She can’t blame her for thinking that she would after the weeks they’ve had. The look on Lexa’s face absolutely crushes her. Clarke doesn’t want her to know that, but she can’t help the way her eyebrows furrow together in concern. Lexa’s eyes are red and full of tears that she hasn’t let herself cry yet. She stares at Clarke without blinking. Her bottom lip trembles. The most emotional she’s ever seen Lexa was at Mount Weather and even then she hadn’t let herself cry either.

Lexa looks lost. Clarke doesn’t know how to help, so she feels the same way.

The Commander is supposed to be an unmoving, unbreakable source of power and Clarke understands that, but she also understands that if Lexa goes another second without letting herself feel something, she might destroy what’s left of the girl inside her.

“You can cry.” She says, closing her hand over Lexa’s wrist and gripping it to ground her.

Lexa’s voice wavers on her words: “Leaders do not cry over the fallen.” But even as she says them, the tears she’s been blinking back start to fall. Lexa ducks her head and covers Clarke’s hand with her own. The rough fabric of Lexa’s gloves on Clarke’s skin isn’t enough contact for either of them right now.

Clarke reaches for her, nothing could stop her. She wraps her arm around Lexa’s shoulders and pulls her against her. Their heads lean against each other and Clarke wills herself not to cry too. _Your secret is safe with me,_ she wants to say.

“You’re safe with me.” Is what she does say. “I promise.”

“They’re just children.” Lexa shakes her head. “They were just children.”

“I know.” Clarke remembers watching Gustus die at the hands of his people and thinking _that could have been Finn_. She feels the same gut twisting horror right now, knowing these children could have been Lexa.

“They were innocent.” Lexa whispers. “One girl, she killed them all.” She slowly reaches for Aden’s hand; his palm is sliced in the same place where Lexa’s was in her fight with Roan. Clarke watches her fumble with the glove on her hand and rip it off before pressing her palm against his and wrapping her fingers around his small hand. “I should have trained them better. I... _wasted_ so much time on- on values and I should have-”

“No.” Clarke covers Lexa’s hand over Aden’s. “How could you have known?”

Her voice shakes. “I just should have-”

“No. Listen to me. You can’t shoulder the burden of unmerited guilt without absolving the guilty.” Lexa’s wide eyes meet hers. The words hit her just as hard as they had hit Clarke. “That’s what you said to me this morning about what Bellamy had put in my head. I won’t let you put this in yours.” Clarke shakes her head. “It’s not your fault.”

Lexa nods. Clarke has no idea whether or not she’s gotten through to her, but maybe she doesn’t need to right now. Lexa leans into her side and Clarke wonders if she’s always been this starved for touch or if she just needs someone in the midst of all this pain. After a few minutes, Lexa stops trembling so much. Her hands still and she straightens her back as she shifts her weight onto her knees and leans forward over Aden. Clarke pulls her arm back.

With black blood inking her hands, Lexa closes Aden’s eyes and brushes sandy blonde hair away from his face. “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

And Aden may have been her favorite, but Lexa shows no less respect to the other fallen nightbloods. She stands to her feet and then approaches each child individually to kneel and do the exact same thing. She closes their eyes, she whispers her goodbyes, and she pays her respects. All Clarke can do is stand on shaky legs and give her space.

Lexa lingers on Aden when she’s done. Clarke doesn’t hear what she whispers to him when she sits down by his head and crosses her legs, but she realizes what she’s doing a few minutes later when Lexa pulls out a knife and cuts away at newly braided hair. It’s short and it’s poorly done and it’s bloody because Lexa’s hands are inked and unstable, but the way she pockets the hair feels so familiar to the way that she had taken the lock of Anya’s hair that Clarke had given to her once. She understands. Keepsakes are all the grounders have without the luxury of a burial ground for their people.

When Lexa finally stands, her cheeks are tear stained and she fumbles with her gloves to slip them back on. The healer in Clarke worries about whether or not she’s reopened the fresh wound in her palm. The girl in Clarke worries about whether or not Lexa can survive this the same person she was an hour ago.

More than anything, she wants to be able to say it’s okay, but it’s not. She wants to be able to say it’ll get better, but it won’t. Clarke has nothing to offer her in the way of consolation. She thinks of the lengths Lexa went to make her feel safe. She kept her distance, she swore complete loyalty to her, she risked her life for her and now Clarke has nothing for her.

In one measure, Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa’s shoulders and tears down all the walls she’d built to keep her out.

She holds her close and lets her in.

Lexa’s arms press against her back, her hands reaching up to cling to her shoulders. She holds onto her life she’s a lifeline; Clarke holds her just as tight. She buries her face in Clarke’s hair when Clarke’s hand moves to run her fingers over her braids. She strokes the back of her head softly. Clarke is crying too now, but not as hard as Lexa, whose body shakes with silent sobs. She can’t imagine how many tragedies Lexa is crying for or how long it’s been since she let herself feel anything but anger.

Clarke sinks into the hug and lets the rest of the world fade. Lexa is warm and grounding and she thinks this is the closest thing she could have to a place where she belongs. She’s lost the Ark. She’s lost the dropship. She’s lost her home and she’s lost her safety, but somehow she hasn’t lost Lexa. Maybe she was right and Clarke was born for this, same as her. At least being born for the same purpose led to meeting each other.

When Lexa finally pulls herself away, Clarke’s hands slide up her shoulders to cup her cheeks and wipes away at the tears staining her skin. Lexa watches her in awe, more grateful than she’s ever seen her.

And Clarke knows she had good reasons to shut her out, but none of them matter right now. All lines are crossed.

Lexa reaches for Clarke’s hands to pull them away. “Titus will be waiting outside for the command to move the bodies and prepare them.”

“What will happen to them?”

“Their bodies will be burned. There’s a ceremony for when a nightblood dies before they can serve as Heda. _Nighblida_ belong to the people. They’ll be burned in Polis.”

Clarke nods. “I’ll get Titus and... give you a moment alone.”

“Thank you.”

-

Titus is waiting behind the closed doors of the throne room, just as Lexa said. He’s emotional still, but he maintains his composure.

“She’s ready.”

“How is she?” He asks.

“She’s strong.”

Titus nods. He allows himself a deep breath and then moves to swing open one of the doors. His hand stalls on the handle. “For your sake, I hope that one day I will stop burning the bodies of the people she loves. I have done so far too many times.”

It takes a moment for the words to reach Clarke, but when they do, she realizes this must be the man who stood by Lexa’s side through losing Costia.

“I hope so too.”

Titus slips inside and Clarke lets herself fall against the stone wall behind her. The cold feels good against the back of her head.

When Lexa emerges a few minutes later, she’s steeled herself to the point of seeming numb. Clarke recognizes the look, the same one she had mastered the night she killed Finn. Clarke holds out her arm and wraps her fingers around Lexa’s gloved hand.

She looks down at where their hands meet. “You should rest, Clarke. You’ve had a longer day than most and you’ve done enough.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Let me stay with you tonight.”

Lexa doesn’t have the energy to argue, she just nods her gratitude.

-

Her room is extravagant, much like Polis. Even in a room built for royal guests, Clarke hasn’t had a taste of quite as much luxury as she finds in Lexa’s room. The center of the room is covered in a large rectangular rug that reaches the foot of the bed, which is - unsurprisingly - just as extravagant as the rest of the room. The headboard is far bigger and more intricately designed than the metal one on the bed Clarke has been sleeping in.

They don’t really speak once the quiet settles in around them. If Lexa is anything like Clarke - and she is, she always has been - then she either has too much on her mind or nothing at all. Sometimes it’s easier to block everything out.

Clarke takes her jacket off and folds it over the arm of a couch by the door. She sits down next to it to work the laces on her boots. On the other side of the room, Lexa undoes the buckle for her shoulder piece and lets it drop onto a table. Her hand rests on it for a few moments. Clarke can guess the significance; she’s thinking of the children who might have worn it and now never will. She wonders which fate is worse in the world they live in. It feels like a tragedy just to care for someone who wears it. Clarke would know.

“Death is not the end,” she hears Lexa whisper to herself in the quiet of the room. She slips out of her own boots and finally turns to Clarke.

“Let me.” Clarke stands from the couch and crosses the room to reach for Lexa’s hands. She winces, no doubt because her hand is still freshly wounded. The fight with Roan was just days ago. Clarke slips each glove off gently and drops them on the table behind Lexa. She intertwines their fingers, careful of not putting any pressure on Lexa’s palm, and rubs her thumbs over the soft skin of her hand and along the lines of her index fingers.

“You should sleep.” Clarke says.

“As should you.”

“We both can. We’re safe in Polis.”

Lexa blinks and looks down. “Polis isn’t safe anymore.”

“Come.” Clarke tugs her backwards towards the bed by her good hand. “Lay down with me.” She leads her to the edge of the mattress and then drops their hands in favor of propping up pillows against the headboard for her to sit against. This isn’t about sleeping and it’s not about sharing a bed. Clarke doesn’t expect to get comfortable, she just wants to make her feel safe, even if that means staying awake at her side all night. She drops herself onto the bed, resists the urge to sink into it and sleep for a full day, and pats the space next to her as she leans back against the pillows. Lexa slides next to her and settles against the furs with her side pressed against Clarke. After a moment of hesitation, Clarke shifts out of her upright position and rests her head on Lexa’s shoulder. For a second, it’s somewhat awkward, and then all at once it’s exactly what they need from each other.

Clarke lays her arm across Lexa’s stomach and Lexa laces their fingers together.

“Why are you doing this, Clarke?”

“Would you do it for me?”

Lexa swallows. “Yes.”

“Then you know why.”

They lay in silence for a while. Clarke doesn’t think about the time that passes. She closes her eyes and strokes the side of Lexa’s hand with her thumb. Lexa wraps her free arm around Clarke so that she’s resting her head against Lexa’s chest and it’s not just more comfortable; it’s more intimate. Lexa’s fingers trail through Clarke’s hair, her nails dragging against her scalp and relaxing her more by the minute.

“Tilden was a good fighter.” Lexa speaks softly, breaking their silence. “He could take control of almost any situation, even against more than one person.”

Clarke cranes her head up to look at Lexa. She has her eyes trained on something on the other side of the room.

“Benning wasn’t as strong as he wanted to be, but he had impressive reflexes. He would have made... an incredible warrior.” Clarke lays her head back again and settles against Lexa.

She listens to Lexa tell her about her warriors in training, one by one. She tells her what their strengths were and how she would have continued their training. She tells her stories about the first time Aden bested one of her strongest warriors and the day Nova, the youngest, was brought to Polis to train and was welcomed by the other children.

“They train themselves just as much as we train them,” Lexa tells her. Clarke can hear the way she smiles around the words. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised to hear how compassionate and kind her nightbloods were. Lexa was a product of them, after all.

“Arcola was the oldest. She was smart, a lot like you. Incredibly brave, even when she was much younger. She was very ambitious.” Lexa takes a tentative breath and then lets slip in a softer tone, “She was Costia’s favorite. While she knew her.”

“And Aden? Was he yours?”

“Aden was Anya’s youngest brother.”

Clarke feels her throat close up. Of course. That’s the first thing that’s made any sense tonight.

“Why would she do this?”

Lexa tilts her head towards Clarke. “This move makes her the only choice for a successor. If I should die now, my spirit will choose her.”

Clarke closes her eyes. That can’t be right. “So kill her.”

“I can’t do that. There are laws even a Commander cannot break. Sacred laws that protect nightbloods. She will be your next Commander.”

“Hey.” Clarke pushes herself up and turns onto her stomach. Resting on her forearms, Clarke meets Lexa’s wide eyes. “You are _not_ dying. Not anytime soon.”

Lexa nods. “Your people need me.”

“ _I_ need you.”

Lexa takes a ragged breath, swallows, and blinks at her in silence. Clarke thinks if she looks at her for another second she might have to face the reason behind that declaration, so she rolls onto her side again and settles against Lexa.

“You have to know that.” She adds.

“I’ll be here as long as I can. I promise.” Lexa lifts her hand so Clarke can lay her arm over her again. She does, and Lexa covers Clarke’s arm with her own. “When I swore fealty to you, I gave you my word. It’s yours forever.” She turns her head and Clarke feels Lexa’s lips tentatively press against her hair so softly she might have imagined it. Lexa whispers the words, “As am I,” and Clarke wonders if she imagined that too.

There’s nothing Clarke could possibly say or give to her that could mean half as much, so she closes her eyes and lets herself sink into their embrace.

That’s how they fall asleep, but only hours later when Clarke can’t spend another minute overthinking and deliberating over every aspect of their lives; both as Commander and Ambassador and as Clarke and Lexa. She lies awake and she thinks and she reasons and she listens to Lexa’s even breaths and she even cries once - cries for Lexa and Aden and the other children and the massacre outside of Arkadia and her Mom, still there with Pike.

Clarke stays awake just long enough to understand what she’s doing. Clarke stays awake just long enough to admit to herself that she’s falling asleep next to the girl she loves.

-

When Clarke wakes up, she sees Lexa asleep for the first time.

It’s kind of funny how many firsts they haven’t experienced. Their connection is freakishly strong for a couple of girls who have only ever been at war. If something were to happen between them, they would have a world of firsts to share. Except for the kiss. Clarke’s stomach flips when she remembers. It’s not something she lets herself think about much, but in light of the past few hours, she gives herself a moment to remember while she watches Lexa sleep.

While they were working together to defeat the Mountain Men, Clarke had done her best to avoid entertaining the train of thought she’d committed herself to last night. They’d shared a tent before, but she had never just watched her. Most times, she tried not to look at her at all if she could help it.

Lexa had sunk into the furs on the bed during the night. She sleeps on her side now, but their hands are still loosely intertwined. Clarke mirrors Lexa’s position to face her. She uses her free hand to push flyaway strands of hair out of Lexa’s face. She’s at peace in her sleep. Untouched and younger, somehow.

Clarke looks at their joined hands. With the pad of her thumb, she traces the letters that spell _I love you_ against her skin. Because she does, but at the same time, she can’t. They’re not ready for that kind of honesty and they might never be. It’s still a weight off her chest to let herself feel it.

Clarke looks away from Lexa to see the sunlight streaming through the curtains. With a single paralyzing thought, the reality of the night before comes crashing down on her.

Reluctantly, Clarke nudges Lexa’s shoulder. She wakes with a soft gasp and her hand squeezes around Clarke’s before she notices the familiar sight of Clarke by her side and relaxes. There’s a softness in her eyes reserved only for the people who know her as Lexa better than they know her as the Commander. Clarke feels her heart swell and then she breaks it in the same moment.

“What time is the ceremony?”

She hates the way her words crash into Lexa. Her face falls. “At dawn. Nightbloods are to pass into their next lives where night meets day. But not today. We have to allow time for people to come should they decide to pay tribute. Most of my people don’t even know yet.”

“Who’s going to tell them?”

“I will. Tonight.”

Clarke nods. “I’m sorry I woke you,” she whispers.

“Don’t be. I have much to do.”

Without much warning, Lexa pulls her hand from Clarke’s and pushes herself to her feet.

Clarke counts to five and sighs. It really is a comfortable bed, so she stays for a moment before she accepts that their moment of peace is over. Lexa has already stopped being Lexa and started being the Commander.

She faces away from Clarke as she puts her boots back on and adjusts the straps on her pants. “The attack on the nightbloods cannot slow our agenda. Ontari will be... _dealt with_. But peace with Arkadia will not be easily acquired. To extend an offer of peace to one enemy means to extend an offer of peace to them all. I hope you understand the gravity of what we’re trying to achieve.”

Clarke stands to her feet and finds her jacket. She slips it on and untucks her hair from the back of it. “I do.” Her boots are by the couch and she slips those on as well as she listens to Lexa talk.

“Good. I need to meet with my advisors.” Lexa lays her shoulder piece over herself and turns to face Clarke while she fiddles with the buckle. “We’ll need your perspective, ambassador.”

Lexa’s shift from intimacy to political strategy could probably give her whiplash, but Clarke humors her. She recognizes the need for something to do at a time like this and she knows Lexa won’t give herself another second to mourn when she could be serving her people.

They step towards each other slowly, meeting in the middle at the foot of Lexa’s bed.

“ _Sha, Heda._ ” Clarke offers her the small smile that Lexa had given her the other night when she’d visited her after the fight with Roan.

Lexa adjusts the red cloth behind her and takes an even breath. “I apologize for last night.”

“Why would you need to?” She should really be asking why she’s even surprised. Of course Lexa would apologize for seeming weak.

“You took care of me after months of needing care because of the choice that I made at Mount Weather. Does that sound fair to you, Clarke?”

Clarke breaths in deeply and looks down. She shakes her head. “Lexa...” Clarke steps forward, holds Lexa’s head in her hands and pushes herself up on her toes to press her lips against Lexa’s forehead.

It’s not a kiss. She wants it to be, but not yet. Not until they’re on the same page.

“You’re not the only one who would rather have peace than war.”

She hopes Lexa knows what that means. It means _I’m tired of hating you._ It means _I’m tired of keeping you at arm’s length every time you offer me your life on a silver platter._ It means _I’m tired and I want you and I don’t care that it’s not fair._

Lexa nods and the corner of her mouth quirks up just enough to count as a smile by Lexa standards. “If you’re ready to start, I am.”

And she may be talking about Arkadia and she may be talking about politics, but those aren’t the questions Clarke answers. She tilts her chin up with confidence.

“I’m ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyways clarke and lexa are in love thanks for ur time


End file.
